


The Ballad of Santa Maria

by foxysquid



Series: Bottom Erwin Week [3]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Bandits & Outlaws, Bottom Erwin Smith, Guns, Law Enforcement, M/M, Ruthless People, Vigilantism, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 00:04:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1584353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxysquid/pseuds/foxysquid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A gang of road bandits is plaguing the Nevada mining town of Santa Maria, led by Santa Maria's own Sheriff Ackerman.  When one of the bandits shoots and nearly kills his best friend, Territorial Judge Erwin Smith, frustrated by the weak arm of the law, turns vigilante and takes it upon himself to get rid of the criminals.  Judge Erwin seeks out Sheriff Ackerman's former deputy, Levi, who has gone outlaw in defiance of the government and is living in the Nevada wilderness.  Levi is rumored to be the strongest marksman in the West, but will he agree to cooperate with Erwin to take down his former superior?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ballad of Santa Maria

The sun was unforgiving, beating down on the driest and newest state in the Union, with not so much as a scrap of cloud to shield the cracked and thirsty earth below. There was scarce cover amidst the brown dirt and low scrub of the open land, so Erwin kept close to the hills, where the uneven, rocky terrain offered protection, not merely from the sun, but from the eyes of possible observers.

It was foolish to ride out alone into this lawless land, but how much difference did the lack of order make? An odd thing for a man of the law to think, but even where the arm of the law could yet reach, it had been rendered too weak to do much good. It had failed, not only him, but the miners, the townspeople, and his dearest friend.

Each stride of his horse took him further from Santa Maria, and each moment was another moment in which Mike hung between life and death, a bullet buried in his chest and his blood staining his bandages. Fortunately, those bandages were being changed: there was a doctor keeping watch over him in the cramped hotel room Erwin had rented for the purpose, but a doctor was no guarantee of survival. Out here, Erwin would have no way of knowing if he'd died, not until he made the long trek back into town, over this trackless terrain--and that was assuming that he survived. They could both be dead by the time the sun set.

Erwin was willing to take that risk. He'd always been willing to take risks.

Overhead, a hawk let out a scream. Erwin paused to scan the countryside. He found it empty. There was nothing visible but the heat, the brush, and the ragged hills with their treacherous, deceptive promise of hidden gold and silver. The seeming desolation was deceptive. The Shoshone inhabited these lands, and he could assign them no blame for taking offense to an unannounced visitor such as himself. He was an agent of the government, riding out where he didn't belong. This land was technically the United States now, but he was nonetheless an alien here, and he had the strong sense of being an interloper, as the sun weighed on him and the hills kept silent watch. He was far from home. He'd done what he could to maintain friendly relations with the tribes, but the same couldn't be said for most other men.

This was another world, and it was peopled with its own citizens. They had their own laws and mores. If he were lucky, the man he was looking for would be out here, among them. It was possible he or his presence here was a myth, or that he had been here once, but had moved on.

Erwin Smith had been posted as territorial judge in the Nevada Territory, and now that the territory had been declared a state, his position was in flux, his future uncertain. He expected to be assigned to another territory, though he could also move up in the hierarchy. He'd once dreamed of becoming a federal court judge, settled and respected, but after the things he'd seen done in the name of the government, and after what the law had failed to do, he didn't know what his dream had become, or if it was his dream any longer. What he wanted, first of all, was to see justice done, to wipe the county clean. True justice here was elusive, and usually stained with blood. Over the past months, it had deserted him.

The Central Gang had terrorized the miners for years, haunting the one dusty road out of Santa Maria, a mining town that had only begun to prosper in the last half-decade. There was no wealth without crime, though crime could exist without wealth. Violence and murder were easy to come by. Gold, less so. Erwin had watched the casualties rise as shipments were intercepted and men died over mere dollars. Now they'd gone further and shot a U.S. Marshal. Mike had survived only through some miracle Erwin didn't understand. Was it God? It had been a while since he was a praying man. He didn't pray now. He acted. They said God helped those who helped themselves, but whether there was a God or now, you had to work to get anything good in this life.

The sky was darkening, but before the sun disappeared for another night, it burst into color above the dry, brown land, a brief moment of brilliance that made him think of heartbreak. One bright moment before the fall. Erwin tethered his horse in a small, dry gulch. Leaving his sole means of transport behind, alone and unattended, was a risk, but one he had to take. He couldn't ride directly into the camp. On foot, he'd stand a much higher chance of remaining undetected. 

The dry earth was an enemy, doing little to absorb the sound of his footsteps, and the soft crunch of it beneath his heels sounded much louder than he would have liked. His plan was simple and direct, but he believed it would work. He liked simple plans. They left less room for error. Yet if he was detected at such an early stage, he'd get nothing for his trouble but a bullet to match Mike's.

A gray and grizzled prospector of his acquaintance, one of the lone treasure-seekers who risked so much for such a faint possibility, had told him about the nameless camp out in the back country, glimpsed from a distance. The man hadn't met with the camp's residents.

_Out by the flat-topped hill_ , he'd said, _where the twisted little river slips right inside it._

There was no hill with a flatter top than the one Erwin was approaching. It was visible for miles around, even in the current fading light. _Don't know how many there were,_ the prospector had said, _cause I wouldn't get close. Some kind of gang. He was there, sure enough. I knew it was him cause he was little. I saw him once, before, in town. He was a little man. You can't mistake him._

The prospector had sounded certain, but Erwin knew him vaguely and knew he was as much of a friend to the bottle as to any other person on this earth. He didn't fool himself that he was following anything more than a drunken rumor, but a rumor was all he had. He needed help.

He'd long heard the stories about Levi. Once a deputy, he'd turned outlaw, for reasons that varied depending on who you asked. He'd left town well before Erwin's time. They called him the West's Strongest, the fastest shot north of the Rio Grande and west of the Mississippi. While he'd been serving the forces of law and justice, there'd been no gangs terrorizing Santa Maria and the surrounding towns. One day, he'd suddenly left. No one could answer the question of why, not to Erwin's satisfaction.

He reached the camp at sundown. The small settlement was close to running water, the "twisted river", shielded by the ravine in the mouth of which it rested. It was difficult to tell how big the camp was, how far in it went. Additionally, there were shadows on the rock wall that were likely caves. There was no way of knowing how deep they went, or where all their exits and entrances were.

Erwin couldn't worry about that, because it couldn't be helped. There was too much he couldn't know. Desperation had made him reckless. Doubt would make him hesitate. This was no country for hesitation.

He had to act in the brief window of time in which the coming night hid him, yet there was enough to see by. As dangerous as his plan was, its beginning was very easily executed. He raised his hand and pointed his revolver. He cocked it, and it was that small, sharp sound that alerted the man who now found himself at the wrong end of the barrel. He turned toward Erwin, eyes widening in surprise. There was just enough light remaining for Erwin to dimly make out his features beneath the brim of his hat. He had the misfortune of being the first of those standing watch that Erwin had come across. He'd had a limited amount of time within which to carry out his reconnaissance. 

The man sighed as he realized his situation. "Great. Just what I need." He was more sarcastic than you'd expect someone with a pistol leveled at his head would be. "What do you want?"

Erwin had no reason to be dishonest. He was being especially direct in this moment. "Take me to see Levi."

Now was the moment in which he'd discover whether he--and his friend the prospector--had been right about the identity of the camp's leader. He wasn't left in suspense. The man gave him a hard look, then sighed again and repeated, "Great. I hope you know what you're doing. Come on."

He sounded as world-weary as if guns were pointed at him every day, but his actions told another story. He walked very carefully, making no sudden movements, avoiding the other inhabitants of the camp as much as possible, and greeting those who glimpsed them with a quick, "Everything's fine here." He didn't want to die. Nobody wanted to die. Erwin didn't want to kill him, but if it was necessary, he would.

His hostage led him to the wall of the ravine, where Erwin could see a cave mouth, more visible in the night than it had been in the day, as light shone from within. There were two men seated outside the cave, and they leapt to their feet, but Erwin's guide waved them off. Erwin had the sense that he was a figure of some authority around here; he'd been fortunate in his choice of target. "You'd better come in," the man said, and Erwin was well aware he could be heading into a trap. In a cave, he'd be hemmed in. Yet a cave was more defensible than the open air, and he'd be able to hold off attackers for longer inside. If this was where Levi was holed up, there was likely another exit to the cave as well. He stepped inside. He was already well past the point of return. It was time to face his fate, whatever that might be.

The cave was waveringly lit by lamps that stank of cooking grease, but the walls and floor were remarkably clean, as if they'd been polished. The lights cast long shadows, and Erwin could see that the cave quickly narrowed, but its farther reaches were hidden by darkness. He did feel a draught, and the air wasn't as stifling as if would have been without ample escape routes for the smoke. 

The man inside the cave was already standing, as if he'd sensed their approach. This must have been Levi. He was small, as Erwin had been told, but no one had told him that his eyes were clear and cold and brilliant, as bright in the dim cave as the sunset above the colorless desert, if without the warmth. Beneath those bright eyes, there were shadows. It was impossible to tell how old he was. His face was remarkably unlined for a man who lived out here beneath the sun, but instead of having a youthful air, he appeared almost ageless. His features were fine without being delicate, his lips narrow and narrowed further in displeasure, the dark lines of his eyebrows showing the angle of his disapproval and distrust. He focused on Erwin first, gaze scanning him thoroughly before it flickered to his companion. 

"Farlan," he said, his voice deeper than Erwin had expected, "you've got to stop bringing home strange men." It was a remark that seemed meant to be humorous, but there wasn't a trace of humor in his tone.

"Levi," said Farlan sternly, "I could die, you know."

Erwin had been keeping an eye on both his surroundings and on Farlan, his target, remaining completely alert to every sight and sound in the vicinity. Now that Erwin was in a position to see Farlan more clearly, he was aware of his pale eyes and his pale brown hair emerging from beneath his hat. Hat and hair couldn't hide the fact that his face was badly, unevenly scarred. It was the result of no gunshot or knife wound. The marring made it look as if something had tried to take a bite out of him.

"You're not gonna die," said Levi confidently, holding Erwin's gaze, before demanding of Erwin, "What do you want?"

Erwin was well aware of the fact that Levi was currently armed with two revolvers of his own. He could have tried to arrive peaceably, to make negotiations. He was good at negotiating, but there was no way to assure that a band of outlaws would listen to him. They had no reason to, so he'd had to be more forceful. Yet when he spoke, he was calm, polite, as if his gun wasn't trained on Farlan's head. "I need your assistance."

"You've got a shitty way of asking for help. Why should I give it to you? Because you'll kill this asshole if I don't? Is that the plan?"

"Levi..." said Farlan, frowning.

"That's one reason," said Erwin. He doubted Levi would let Farlan die so easily, for all that he affected indifference. The way they spoke to each other suggested that they were friends.

Levi never stirred, not even to shift his weight, Erwin noticed. He remained completely still, standing on the cave floor facing Erwin. "You don't have long." Levi was right; this situation wasn't one he could maintain indefinitely. The balance was bound to shift. He was outnumbered, outgunned, and alone. "Go on, get it out."

"You're aware of the Central Gang," said Erwin.

"I am," said Levi, with no increase in emotion or interest.

"I've discovered the identity of their leader."

Levi said nothing. He waited, icily silent.

"Sheriff Ackerman," said Erwin.

Levi didn't reply immediately, but when he did, his lack of surprise was suspiciously complete. Was he an accomplice? He didn't think it was likely, but he hadn't discounted that theory entirely. That would present a problem, but Erwin had made provisions for such a possibility. "That fucker would play both sides of the law." Levi shrugged. "It doesn't have anything to do with me."

"I want to wipe him and his gang out."

Levi snorted. He couldn't have thought much of Erwin's chances against Central, but most people would have had the same reaction. They were a feared gang that had eluded capture for years. He was one man. "Do you?" asked Levi scornfully. "Good fucking luck."

"Enough people have died. It's time to end it."

"And who are you?" Levi asked.

"My name's Smith."

"Smith," said Levi. "You got one of my men. You'll kill him if I don't help. But once we make our bargain, you're gonna have to lower your gun sometime. Once you do, what's to stop me from shooting you and going back to what I was doing before you showed your ugly face?"

"You're not a very good negotiator," Farlan pointed out, in a murmur.

"I'm not the one who was supposed to keep watch and ended up with a Colt at the back of his head," Levi snapped.

This silenced Farlan.

Erwin's gaze and grip remained steady. He wasn't distracted by their attempts to throw him off his guard. "You're right," said Erwin. "You could kill me easily. But what about your sister?"

A quiet fell. Erwin could hear voices outside the cave. Other members of the gang were likely discussing the situation inside, but they had taken no action yet, obviously waiting for some sign from Levi before they'd act. Levi and Farlan both stared at Erwin. Farlan said nothing, and when Levi spoke again, his voice had taken on a new tone, uglier and more vicious. "What about her?"

"You don't need to worry," said Erwin. "Isabel is perfectly fine, and she'll be released as soon as I return safely."

"And if you don't?" Levi asked.

"I don't enjoy employing violence," was all Erwin said in response to this.

"Fuck. You bastard." Levi's face paled, lines appearing now as his features contorted with fury. For the first time, he moved, shifting as if to take a step forward, but he must have remembered the gun at Farlan's head in time to stop himself. 

"Levi, don't," said Farlan, and with this, Erwin easily confirmed his suspicion that this man was the peacemaker of the gang. Distantly, Erwin reflected that he would shoot Farlan, if he had to, but he hoped it wouldn't come to that, as he could prove useful. "Don't do anything rash," said Farlan. "We'll listen to him, and Isabel will be all right."

"I'm going to lower my gun now, if I've made my terms clear?" asked Erwin. Levi struck him as a reasonably intelligent man, and obviously fond of his sister. As with Farlan, Erwin would far prefer to leave her unharmed. In fact, he didn't intend to have her harmed, but there was the matter of crimes she'd committed, which she could be brought to trial for.

"Lower it," said Levi.

Slowly, Erwin did, not entirely trusting that he wouldn't be shot as soon as his pistol returned to its holster. He slipped it back into place. He took a breath.

Neither Levi nor Farlan moved to harm him. Farlan took a step toward Levi, but Levi didn't look at him. He was watching Erwin. The fury had faded from view, but Erwin had no illusions about Levi's opinion of him. Nonetheless, his gambit had been successful. He knew that already, but he was glad to receive confirmation of that fact a moment later. "What do you want me to do?" asked Levi.


End file.
